


The Memories We Keep and the Pain They Reap

by TelltheKingCasseToi



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Bane Chronicles - Sarah Rees Brennan & Cassandra Clare & Maureen Johnson, The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Alec Lightwood Deserves Nice Things, Alec Lightwood Provides Comfort, Alec POV, All cuddles, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Hurt Magnus Bane, Hurt Magnus Bane, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magnus Bane Deserves Nice Things, Magnus almost died, Magnus has been through a lot, Major Character Injury, One Shot, Post 2x20 - Beside Still Water, Scars, Those memories though, Uprising References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 03:53:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11981580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TelltheKingCasseToi/pseuds/TelltheKingCasseToi
Summary: -- The brief respite period after Valentine’s defeat was short-lived, much to his disdain, meaning that the celebrations he’d had with his family and friends had ceased. It was a pity, particularly after all of the heart-wrenching fear that he would lose Jace, Izzy, or Max – he wasn’t even a hundred percent sure that he hadn’t lost Jace at some point. He hadn’t felt like he’d had the time to relish the fact that his family was safe; that Magnus was safe. --Or, Alec comes home to find Magnus is hurting; the weight of memories resurfacing due to recent events causing him anguish. Alec does his best to comfort the warlock, even if it means having to face some uncomfortable stories of the past, and helping Magnus deal with emotions and truths that he had not properly confronted.--They were the entry and exit wounds of a blade that could have killed him, and they lingered as a haunting reminder.“I can make many imperfections disappear, but a wound made by a seraph blade can never fully heal.” --





	The Memories We Keep and the Pain They Reap

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a short one shot, but I got a little carried away. I just wanted some Malec comfort in my life, because after watching the show and reading The Bane Chronicles, I think Magnus needs a little comfort - honey has been through a lot. Set after Season 2B, but before Season 3. 
> 
> This is my first fanfiction, so any feedback is appreciated. Hope you enjoy! :3

Trudging up the polished wooden staircase, Alec’s entire body felt sore and weighted. For the past couple of days, demon activity had been fluctuating in an unpredictable way. Granted, demon activity could never be forecast; but ever since the opening of the rift, all manner of grotesque creatures had emerged from the shadows to wreak havoc. The brief respite period after Valentine’s defeat was short-lived, much to his disdain, meaning that the celebrations he’d had with his family and friends had ceased. It was a pity, particularly after all of the heart-wrenching fear that he would lose Jace, Izzy, or Max – he wasn’t even a hundred percent sure that he hadn’t lost Jace at some point. He hadn’t felt like he’d had the time to relish the fact that his family was safe; that Magnus was safe. Truth be told, Alec hadn’t expected any different, having been trained to remain vigilant even at the end of a battle. For one thing, the Asmodei were still in this realm, even if they had yet to be found.

It was only now that his shift had ended, after his fingers had been worn with the firing of arrows and demon ichor splattered his clothing, that Alec felt that he was finally able to return to that relief for a moment, mainly in the form of a certain warlock that was waiting for him in the apartment at the top of the stairs. Alec still hadn’t been able to completely shake the terror that resided within him when he’d seen Raziel’s light illuminating the sky from Lake Lyn. He knew what Valentine desired to do if he raised the angel; he wanted to desecrate the entire downworld, slaughter the population and leave nothing but blood and dust in its wake. Yet Magnus, stubborn as ever, refused to even try to save himself, intent on finding Jace and Clary instead. Alec had wanted to scream at him, force him to run, to try and survive, but he had restrained himself – knowing Magnus wouldn’t back down, and not wanting their last moments together to be ones of anger and hurt. So he held his tongue, and tried to prepare himself to watch the first – and quite possibly last – love of his life die right before his eyes. 

But that hadn’t happened. By some divine miracle, Magnus was alive, and they had reconciled in the aftermath, leaving the party at the Hunter’s Moon early to spend the night under Magnus’ cobalt silk sheets, wrapped around each other like vines. They didn’t speak for the entire night, merely holding one another close and relishing in the other’s warmth, presence, and the dull thuds of their heartbeats. They stayed like that until the sky outside had shifted to a watercolour of peach and gold hues, the pale light permeating the room with a soft glow. Neither had moved, and Alec’s hand stroked lazily up and down Magnus’ back from where his arm was curled around him. They both knew they would have to talk eventually, but there was a peace so gentle that surrounded them; and neither wished for it to break. 

Alec felt a small, private smile grow on his face at the memory. It was only three nights ago that Alec had held Magnus in his arms after what felt like months apart from each other, but somehow everything felt alright again, as if the fights had never happened and the heartache was never there. Alec was back home, living in the loft with the High Warlock of Brooklyn, who for some reason saw in him something that was worth pursuing; saw that he had worth even when he didn’t always see it himself; and who loved him back despite everything. 

Finally reaching the top of the stairs, Alec dragged his body down the hall, before letting himself in to Magnus’ apartment. He set his bow and quiver down in box by the door, secretly loving the fact that Magnus had bought the additional furniture just for him, and made his way into the living room. 

“Magnus?” He called out, once he had found the main room empty, but he heard no reply. 

It wasn’t uncommon for Magnus to be elsewhere in the loft when he arrived. When Alec had come round previously – once he had become comfortable letting himself in rather than knocking – Magnus had told him that he hadn’t needed to see who was at the door, as his wards did that for him, tuned to only let Alec enter unannounced. His heart had swelled at the sentiment, and he had proceeded to crash his lips against Magnus’, who had initially been surprised but returned the kiss with equal enthusiasm regardless. 

The trust Magnus placed in him was startling, although he feared he may have tainted that a little now. Magnus had bared his soul to Alec, telling him about his mother’s suicide and his step father’s attempt on his life. In return, Alec had told him about his insecurities and fears; about how he’d thought there was something wrong with him when he was younger because he was attracted to Jace even though he was a boy. But, after all of that, Alec had splintered that trust with the soul sword, and although they had reconciled, Alec wasn’t sure what damage had been done. 

After checking the kitchen and the study that Magnus had recently added, Alec headed to the master bedroom. He slid the door open, taking note of the freshly changed purple silk sheets and the baroque printed black and gold comforter and cushions on the unfairly comfortable mahogany bed; the new paintings that had been put up on the golden walls; the pile of decadent and expensive clothing that was folded neatly on the ornate chair in the corner of the room; the vanity in the corner that was fully stocked with various pots of glitter and makeup that Alec was only just beginning to understand…and the distinct lack of Magnus. 

Frowning slightly, Alec stepped back out the room. Magnus knew he was coming, Alec had told him that he’d see him tonight when he left that morning, so where was he? It was only now that Alec was stood in worried silence that he heard the faint sound of running water coming from the bathroom, preventing him from going into panic. He knew that the threat was over now that Valentine had been killed, but Alec had almost lost Magnus far too many times, and – as he had told Magnus himself – he couldn’t live without him. 

He made his way down the hall and opened the door, a wall of heat hitting him as he did. Alec stepped inside, the familiar scent of sandalwood surrounding him in the stifling hot room. He could barely see, the thick wisps of unfurling steam obscuring his vision, but he could just make out the blurred silhouette of Magnus in the large, art deco style shower cubicle. Magnus was unmoving, his hands braced against the wall as the water cascaded down his body from the shower head above, slapping almost punishingly against his rich bronze skin at the initial contact because of the high setting. His onyx hair hung limply in front of his eyes, and his head was bowed towards the marble floor of the shower, as if he had to watch every droplet of water circle the drain. Even through the condensation on the glass, Alec could see that his lean body was tense, the muscles in his arms and back taut and strained, as if he were single-handedly holding back a tidal wave.

Unsure, Alec stepped towards the shower, his boots heavy against the marble tiles, yet Magnus did not stir in the slightest. He opened the cubicle and spoke Magnus’ name softly, but he was still not roused from his position. From here, Alec could feel the high temperature of the water, almost scalding him even without direct contact, though Magnus seemed not to notice this. Leaning over, Alec gripped the controls, wincing as his hand touched the heated metal, and turned the shower off. Magnus was broken from his stupor at this, no longer lost in the thrall of harsh water and deep thoughts, and so turned to face Alec. He looked exhausted. 

“What’s wrong Mags?” Alec muttered softly, gently pushing the wet onyx hair from Magnus’ face with one hand, his eyes never straying from the distraught face before him.

Magnus’ eyes were unglamoured, the green-gold irises and slit pupil that Alec had called beautiful the first time he saw them were looking at him, conflict present in their iridescent depths. Alec could almost feel the struggle, the parts of Magnus wanting to hide and the parts wanting to let Alec in clashing so strongly it was nearly tangible. 

Without a word, Alec opened his arms and Magnus all but fell into them, wrapping his arms around Alec’s chest and burying his head in his shoulder. Alec felt the water from Magnus’ overheated body seeping through his clothes, but he didn’t care. Something was evidently wrong, and Alec would be there for Magnus; just as Magnus was always there for him. 

After a while, Magnus removed his head from where it had been nestled in Alec’s shoulder, his cat eyes filled with tears that had not yet been shed. Alec quickly grabbed a towel from behind him and handed it to Magnus, who wrapped it around his waist with shaky hands. In all of Alec’s time with Magnus, he’d never seen him so vulnerable. He was beyond concerned, but didn’t want to push, not now. Instead, he remained silent as Magnus took his hand and led him out of the bathroom, down the hall, and into the bedroom. 

They sat on the bed next to each other; deafening silence surrounded them, and rivulets of water ran down Magnus’ bare skin from his body and hair. Magnus still had Alec’s hand clasped in his own, the grip tight as if he was anchoring himself to the present. 

“It’s been almost two decades since the Uprising,” Magnus began; his voice so thick with emotion that it sounded deeper, heavier than Alec had ever heard it, “but recent events have made me re-live every single second.”

One of the tears that had welled up in Magnus’ eyes spilled down his cheek at that moment, and Alec raised his hand to carefully wipe it away. The motion caused Magnus to close his eyes, reacting almost as if he were touch starved, and causing more tears to roll down his face. He took a deep breath before continuing.

“I’m used to people’s hatred, their fear, their disgust. My mother and step-father were the first to express those emotions towards me, and I have endured centuries of it since. Although there have been exceptions, shadowhunters were always the worst to display these feelings. They’d hunt people like me for sport; take warlock marks, fangs, and claws as tokens; torture us for fun. We were always deemed lesser, supposedly defiling everything we touched. I’ve lived through persecution all of my life, but nothing compared to the Uprising.”

Magnus got up at that point, reluctantly letting go of Alec’s hand and moving to the dresser. He rifled through the drawers, until he found one of Alec’s t-shirts and a pair of satin boxers. Alec watched him do so, the light glinting off of his still moist skin, making it appear a dazzling gold – but it also revealed something else. 

Unable to stop himself, Alec was up and across the room in a second, his hands outstretched but not touching as he looked at Magnus’ back, and the pale white scar that resided there. It was long, and relatively thin, residing just off centre from his spine. Alec tentatively touched the scar, and Magnus stiffened as he did so, as if a phantom pain was triggered by the contact. Ice shot down Alec’s spine as moved his hand away, his mind making links between the scar before him and one’s he’d seen before. Alec felt his throat go tight, trying not to believe what his mind was telling him, but how could he? He gently turned Magnus to face him and saw what he most feared, an identical scar in the middle of the copper skin on Magnus’ chest – millimetres from Magnus’ heart. Alec choked on a sob, tears he didn’t realise he’d made making tracks down his face. 

“Magnus…what…what is this?” Alec whispered, only just managing to force out the words from his mouth.

Magnus didn’t look at him, one hand gripping Alec’s shirt in his hand whilst the other grabbed Alec’s. 

“The reason I became the High Warlock of Brooklyn was because of the Circle. I was considering staying in New York to protect my people and the rest of the downworld anyway, but my mind was made up when a little werewolf boy came to find me. 

“The Circle had descended on his home in Chinatown. They’d already slaughtered vampires in Spanish Harlem, and this child had come to get help. His entire family was at the safe house the Circle had broken into; he’d climbed out of the window to get away. When I got there, they’d rounded up the werewolf family. I tried to talk to them, but they were all too enthralled with Valentine and his words to listen…Lucian didn’t help the matter, blindly loyal to his parabatai.”

Magnus hesitated for a moment, and Alec knew why. Magnus was trying to spare him pain, because even though he hadn’t said it, the fact that his parents had been there hung unspoken in the air. Yet, the length of the pause begun to worry Alec, and he realised as Magnus seemed to steel himself that he was not going to like what he heard, even if he did want the whole truth. 

“The Circle attacked, and I would’ve taken a blade to the chest within seconds had it not been for the Whitelaws. They used to run the institute before your parents. Rachel dived in front of me, taking the blade in her shoulder. She saved my life, though I never got to return the favour...” Magnus squeezed his eyes shut at the end, and his jaw clenched with grief and self-loathing. He blames himself for her death, Alec realised.

“The one who threw the blade was your father...” Magnus whispered, and Alec tightened his hand around Magnus’. Alec felt guilt wrench at his very core, for his own father had tried to murder the man in front of him. Alec didn’t know what to do; would Magnus even want his comfort if he was remembering what his parents had done? 

“Magnus…I’m so sorry.” Alec all but sobbed, looking down in shame at his family’s actions. Magnus raised a hand to his face and raised Alec’s head gently. Alec could see in his eyes that there was more Magnus was going to say, but his next words were ones of comfort. Despite Alec wanting to know everything, it seemed Magnus was wanting to spare him some of the pain, the guilt over what his parents had done, and for once – after hearing what he just had – Alec was not going to argue. He was supposed to be supporting Magnus, and yet somehow Magnus – despite his anguish – knew that Alec could only withstand so much himself, still looking out for him even though he was the one who was suffering. 

“It’s not your fault, Alexander.” Magnus whispered to him, “You are not responsible for your parent’s actions, and I would never judge you by them. Just as I know you wouldn’t judge me simply because of my heritage.”

Alec only nodded at him in response, he hadn’t really thought about it like that before. He knew Magnus must have a demon for a father, but since he’d met him, he’d never really considered Magnus based on his parentage. He wanted to ask, but she supposed that was a conversation for another time, and so he asked another question instead, although he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer. “What happened to the werewolves?”

“They wouldn’t fight. Valentine had their little daughter and had threatened to kill her if they moved. When I found her, Valentine had tortured her…blinded her with silver coins.” Magnus mumbled, supressing a shiver that had wanted to wrack his entire body.

Alec took a sharp intake of breath. He knew that Valentine was treacherous in innumerable ways, but to do that to a child? A dreadful thought clawed its way into Alec’s brain: what would he have done to Madzie – sweet, vulnerable, little Madzie – if she hadn’t served a purpose?

“I lashed out at Valentine and went to help her, but I couldn’t do anything. Then Valentine stabbed me in the back. He would’ve killed me, he certainly tried. He glanced my ribs with his blade and I honestly thought I would die there. He cut Marian Whitelaw in half when she came to help, what chance did I have?” Magnus questioned bitterly, anger hidden under the surface of sorrow at his survival whilst others who had helped him perished. “In the end, it was Lucian who saved me.”

Alec backtracked for a second then, his gaze snapping back from where it had been looking mournfully at the scar along the side of his ribs, trying to process the fact that either this one or the other could have killed him if the angle had shifted slightly. “Luke? How?” Alec asked, perplexed. 

“He couldn’t let Valentine torture a child. Despite everything else they’d done, that was a step too far. So Valentine stopped. Luke carried the girl back to the pack and they all left. One wolf died, but the rest survived, though I doubt they were unchanged by the events. The Whitelaws though, they were all gone. I tried to save Adam, but he didn’t want to live…not on his own…” Magnus trailed off, his voice weakening at the end with an unspoken level of understanding; one that said Magnus knew how that felt, and that only broke Alec’s heart more. 

As if that final submission took the last of the strength Magnus had, he stumbled sideways slightly. Alec caught him, grabbing the clothes with his free hand and guiding Magnus to the bed. He took of Magnus’ towel and threw it to the side, helping him dress in the boxers and t-shirt. He then drew back the covers and pulled them over Magnus, before walking around to the other side of the bed, removing his boots, and climbing in next to hide. Magnus immediately huddled into his side, and Alec drew him closer to comfort him. 

He was having difficulty processing the sheer amount of information Magnus had just told him: the callous cruelty of the Circle; the painful knowledge of the horrors his parents had been part of; Luke’s position as someone other than the compassionate werewolf Alec had come to know; the terrible backstory to his parent’s taking over the New York institute; and Magnus having almost died by the blades of both his father, and Valentine. Magnus had endured savagery at the hands of shadowhunters to its fullest extent, and Alec had watched him endure it again, and again; each time almost losing his life. But despite all of that, Magnus seemed to be more concerned with the fact that he hadn’t done enough, hadn’t given enough, even though he had almost given his life on multiple occasions during this fight. 

“You did everything you could do.” Alec told him in a hushed voice. 

“I should have done more. He almost slaughtered the entire downworld a few days ago because I hadn’t stopped him before that. Maybe I could have saved everyone. I could have killed Valentine that day and saved everyone all those who died at the Uprising; all those who died in his experiments; the Silent Brothers in the Silent City; the warlocks in my safe house; those who died when he activated the soul sword; Clary’s mother,” Magnus rambled, self-deprecation twisting around his words, but all of that made way for an unspeakable misery as he uttered one final name, “…Ragnor.”

Alec felt any argument he had die on his tongue at Magnus’ tone. He wanted to protest, Magnus had done everything he could, and he had almost died saving that little werewolf girl. However Magnus had decided that he hadn’t done enough, and that every subsequent death Valentine caused somehow rested on his conscience. It wasn’t true; Magnus couldn’t have done anything to save those other poor souls who had died during Valentine’s reign of terror, and he needed to know that. Yet the stark reminder of what Magnus had lost hit Alec in that moment. 

He had heard of Ragnor’s death, but Magnus had never spoken about it in much detail. There were moments when one of them would say something sarcastic, and Magnus would drift off, as if he got lost in the maze of his past for a moment. Alec would always ask what was wrong, and Magnus would always respond with the same phrase “oh nothing, it’s just something Ragnor would have said” and plaster a smile on his face as if he were fine, although the joyful spark in his eyes would have inevitably disappeared. Ragnor was one of Magnus’ oldest and only friends, and evidently Magnus was still grieving that loss; making the losses of everyone else seem so much more profound as a result. 

Alec didn’t know what to say, so he merely pulled Magnus closer to him, feeling the warlock’s body shake with quiet sobs. Only once the shaking had ceased did Alec try to find the words he wanted to say. 

“I know you, Magnus. I know that you did everything you could to save the people you care about. You couldn’t have done anything to stop what happened, no-one could have predicted what he would do, how far he would go. He was a crazed fanatic who just wanted to watch the world burn. There is no blame to be put on anyone but him and those who followed him; you did everything in your power to stop him, and you saved so many people along the way, myself included. You closed the rift from Edom; you saved Luke’s life; you’ve helped Jace, Izzy, Clary, Simon, Raphael; you even saved Madzie right out of Valentine’s clutches. Don’t blame yourself, you did more than enough.”

Magnus sniffled slightly, and Alec felt more than he saw the small smile that appeared on Magnus’ face. “You remind me of Ragnor sometimes; sarcastic but with a kind heart who, when needed, always knows exactly what to say.”

Alec felt a small smile of his own grow at that. “I wish I could have met him.”

“I wish you could have too,” Magnus responded longingly, “I think you would have liked each other. Although I believe you would have ganged up on me more often than not, and he would have told you every single one of my lowest moments.” He added, a faint chuckle following the statement.

“I think we would have got along well, I’m sure he had plenty of stories about your misadventures.” Alec mused lightly, stroking his fingers through Magnus’ still-damp hair. 

“Oh, he did.” Magnus responded, there was still a lingering tone of sadness there, of a grief yet to settle, but there was also a sense of remembrance and joy. Of one person looking back at their life with another and remembering all of the good times spent together in the past, rather than the future moments that would never come. “I’ll miss him, my little dear cabbage.”

“You will, but he’ll always be with you.” Alec responded, pressing a soft kiss to Magnus’ forehead.  
“…He said that too.” Magnus whispered, more to himself than to Alec. 

Alec’s hand trailed from Magnus’ hair to trace patterns along his shoulders. At first it was simply doodles, but they shifted after a while to something else. He moved his hand along, although it was a little difficult given his arm was trapped under Magnus, and began tracing runes. Protection, memory, loyalty, healing, love – he repeated the process over and over again, only halting when his fingertips grazed the scar on Magnus’ back. His other hand moved to touch the scar on the warlock’s chest, slightly raised and barely visible after so long, but so obvious now that he knew it was there. They were the entry and exit wounds of a blade that could have killed him, and they lingered as a haunting reminder. 

“I can make many imperfections disappear, but a wound made by a seraph blade can never fully heal.” Magnus explained, a tinge of fear dancing in his tone, as if he thought that this imperfection tainted him in some way. “That memory will forever scar me, in more ways than one.”

“But I love you, all of you, and that includes your scars. There’s nothing ugly about you, Mags.” Alec breathed, soothing and honest, for he knew that there was nothing that could change the way he felt about Magnus. 

He felt Magnus shift next to him, and in the next second he was looking into Magnus’ green-gold eyes, so filled with compassion that Alec felt his heart stutter.

“If I didn’t know any better Alexander, I’d say you were half angel.” Magnus joked lightly, although there was nothing but sincerity in those eyes. 

They shared a chaste kiss, one that said so much more than words ever could, before Magnus snuggled back into him, and Alec felt him finally melt into the embrace. Deep down, Alec knew this wouldn’t be the last time one of them would crumble under the weight of life and its challenges, but he knew they’d be okay, as they had both found a safe place to break.


End file.
